Giscard’s Convention – a tale of the unexpected

FOR authors and publishers alike, there is no life like shelf-life, regardless of whether they are in the business of producing bestsellers or specialist works – and the latter niche category is, inevitably, the fate of any book about the EU, even one covering an event as unique as the drafting of Europe’s first constitution.

Peter Norman, the respected former bureau chief of the Financial Times, has boosted his shelf-preservation chances by bringing out his account of the Convention on the future of Europe before anyone else. As one would expect from such an accomplished journalist, it’s a thorough, detailed and readable account of the Convention’s 16-month journey from the end of February 2002 to July 2003.

The author attended every plenary session of the forum, apart from two one-day meetings in March this year, and his book chronologically follows every twist and turn of the process. As a historical record of the Convention, it will probably be unsurpassed.

“It is a tale of people and policies, but above all of the unexpected,” writes Norman, hence the book’s title. At over 400 pages including annexes, it is also longer than he and publisher Peter Ludlow originally envisaged, when they first discussed the venture in early 2002.

If anything, the book is slightly too long and perhaps might have benefited from tighter editing (some phrases and points appear more than once), but this is a minor grumble. The early chapters, providing an overview of what led up to the debate on the EU’s future and, in particular, the ‘who does what’ in Europe (the so-called competences question), are particularly strong, as are the portraits of all the leading players.

The 77-year-old Valéry Giscard d’Estaing may have been a controversial choice as Convention president, but he won over many of his critics with his energy, powerful intellect and ability to get the job done.

Although often branded as haughty, he could also be extremely charming, “particularly when talking to an attractive woman”, says Norman. Giscard was also not averse to taking huge gambles. His decision in April 2003 to release 15 draft articles on the institutions, without first discussing them with the Convention board, the praesidium, caused near-apoplexy. But, in hindsight, it was a turning point because it focused minds. (There were later suggestions that the European Commission organized the leak.)

As the founding father of the European Council, Giscard was, by experience and instinct, more of a Council than a Commission man. This was especially evident in his difficult relationship with Romano Prodi, the Commission president. However, the Commission’s failure to make as much impact on the Convention as might have been expected was largely due to tactical errors and disunity in the College, in Norman’s view.

The lowpoint for the Commission came in the first week of December 2002, with the bungled release of two conflicting texts – the executive’s official contribution to the Convention and Prodi’s own vision, codenamed Penelope, which had been secretly drawn up by a group of officials led by François Lamoureux, head of the Commission’s energy and transport directorate-general.

In one of the book’s most gripping passages, Norman recounts how Penelope was leaked just hours before the College of commissioners were due to give their final approval to the official document. Michel Barnier and António Vitorino, the Commission’s two representatives on the praesidium, were left out of the loop and lost credibility as a result. The embarrassment and anger felt by Prodi’s colleagues was typified by the reaction of Vice-President Neil Kinnock: at the Wednesday Commission meeting, the furious Welshman is said to have cut off Prodi’s opening remarks in mid-flow, demanding to know what was going on.

We will probably never know the full story behind the leaking of Penelope, but it badly backfired and the Commission never properly recovered from the setback in terms of its influence on the forum, says Norman.

As the Convention moved towards its frantic conclusion, there were many times when it seemed the Conventionnels (as Giscard called them) might fail to reach a consensus.

That they did, Norman concludes, was largely down to the former French president and his small but excellent secretariat, headed by Sir John Kerr.

Giscard did not have a blueprint for the constitutional treaty, but did have a “compass” and clear ideas, which enabled him to exploit developments and bridge the divisions between integrationists and intergovernmentalists. Perhaps his best decision was not to allow voting in the Convention – a “stroke of genius”, according to the author.

And what of the end product, the draft constitution now being discussed by the intergovernmental conference? Whatever the final outcome of those deliberations, the Convention document succeeds because “it recognizes that the Union is rooted in dualities and sets out to recognize these. It is a Union of states and citizens…a Union where states both pool sovereignty and cooperate on policies”, writes Norman.

The author concedes that it is doubtful whether the draft constitution will appeal, as Giscard hoped, to the “average intelligent secondary school pupil”.

However, should any of the latter be inclined to read it in full, it is doubtful whether they will find a better explanatory text than that provided by the redoubtable Norman.